It Won't Be You
by LadyTardis
Summary: This is how it begins for every poor soul chosen as tribute. That shocked feeling, that moment when your heart sinks into your stomach and everything around you stops. I knew that feeling, much like I knew death. They came hand-in-hand. eventual Cato/OC


**A/N: Alright, I know, I know. "Oh god, another Cato story." I can't promise that it's going to be the best, and I might lose your attention every once in a while, but just know that I'm trying. I feel like this is short, and cuts off at a really weird point, but I'll be uploading more as soon as possible. Reviews are wonderful, and if I'm not getting reviews, that means no one likes it, which means there's no point in continuing the story. So yes, reviews are gladly accepted.**

**You know the drill: I do not own the Hunger Games, or anyon****e directly related to, with the exception of Annabelle, and the stylists. I've given the boy from the movie a name, but he's still not technically mine.** **Enjoy.**

* * *

"Annabelle Sage!"

For a moment, things stood still. My breath caught in my throat and the eyes of practically all of District Three flicker to me. It was a feeling that children all across Panem have felt before. The sinking feeling of realization.

_You've just been chosen as tribute. It was your name that came out of that bowl._

"Annebelle, sweetie? Come on up."

I look into the eyes of our district's escort, her blue hair hanging messily around the shoulder of her much too sparkly dress. I set my shoulders back, take a breath, and start towards the platform. I'm trying hard to look unafraid, to look like I'm confident, with my head held high.

_No fear._

My shoes click against the steps as I near Hera Sweetwater, her voice breaking the silence.

"Excellent!" She pauses, as if to size me up, gives a nod, and turns to the bowl on the opposite side of the platform, the bowl that holds the name of every boy from the ages of twelve to eighteen. Her slim fingers dance around the papers in mock indecision until she finally decides upon one slip.

"For our boys, your tribute is..Chadwick Grey!"

The boy who fits the name is a bit on the chubby side, like he hasn't gotten rid of his baby fat completely. He's got dark hair and big brown eyes. It's not a big comparison when standing next to my red hair, our eyes are the same brown, and I'm much skinner (and female, of course) but other than that, the differences are slim to none.

"Good, wonderful!" Hera is much too excited, but that's how all of the escorts are. That's how they've always been. "Now, our tributes shake hands."

He looks worried, although he attempts to put on a brave face, much like I am. I grasp his hand, a silent nod sent to him as a means of reassurance.

"Beautiful!" Hera shrieks, clasping her hands together. "Happy Hunger Games, District Three, and, may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

* * *

I'm silent as I enter the Justice Building, but only because I know that the only person who will be saying goodbye to me is my father. It wasn't that I hated him; in fact it was the opposite. I loved him, because he was the only person I had left, but he pushed and pushed. He trained me for this for years, made me strong both physically and emotionally. After my mother and brother passed, he emptied my brother's room, turning it into his own little training center. He knew it was bad, and that horrible things would happen if the Capitol found him out. He didn't care; my father saw this only as a precaution. He knew that if the day came when his last living family member, his only daughter, were to have her named picked out from that bowl, he would need me to survive. He would need me to come back to him in one living piece.

"You have three minutes," the Peacekeeper informed my father as he entered my given visitation room. For the first time in nearly six years, he gave me a hug, a real, two-armed, full minute hug.

"Dad, I'll be fine." I muttered, patting the middle of his back.

"I know that, but don't start getting arrogant while you're there. You're powerful, you know you are, but..you can't let them in on how strong you are. Give them a little surprise."

"I know, Dad. I know."

Only when he was sure that I understood did he nod. The door swung open, letting light flood into the dim, boring room.

"Dad, you know the chances are high, but..if I don't make it back whole, you have to keep going. I know, you'll be lonely, but you can't let that stop you from being happy." I hated having to get so emotionally with him. Seventeen years, only to have the last six filled with training, bitterness, and pain, and sorrow from lost life. And then, just like that, he was gone. I was alone, waiting to be carted off onto the train, where I would meet the mentors and try to come up with a way to get sponsors.

* * *

We stepped onto the train, still unsure of what we should be expecting. The interior was actually breathtaking, the main car was decked out in silvers and blacks and grays, a large chandelier hanging just above the large dining table. I'm told by an excited Hera that the table is made from Cherry wood. I only nod, unaware of the relevance.

"Oh, Beetee, there they are!" An older woman sitting on one of the sofas exclaimed, getting up to shake our hands.

"Wiress here is a bit on the..giddy side today. It's been a long time since we've had tributes that have true potential to make our district proud."

Make our district proud? Did he believe one of us could actually win this thing? Maybe one of us would make to the final six, or even the final four, but all the way to becoming this year's victor? That seemed so far out of the question.

"Come, sit." The man says, beckoning us over to the chairs opposite them. I take the first chance to sit. I'd been up and moving for what seemed like hours and hours.

"So, where do we go from here?" Chadwick questioned. I couldn't tell by his tone if he was eager, or if he just wanted to get everything out of the way. I looked to the two victors expectantly.

"Well," Wiress began, "I imagine we should tell you the basic survival tactics."

"Yes, of course. You'll need to find water. Water is the most important element here, and after that comes food. At night. they'll be sure to freeze you out, take out another tribute due to hypothermia, but try not to think so hard on it. Your socks will be thick enough to keep your feet warm, to circulate you. They will provide you with a jacket as well, which will help substantially."

I nodded, paying close attention and taking mental notes every now and then. Wiress began to explain the importance of not building a fire, no matter how cold it got in the arena, and that if either of us took the chance, we'd have to keep it at a low ember.

"Are either of you good with hunting?"

Chadwick and I exchange glances, and I shrug. The most I'd ever really done with hunting was practicing throwing my knives at the squirrels from my back porch. He, however, did not look as hopeful.

"Right, well. I'm sure Wiress and I can give you a few pointers."

* * *

Dinner is spent in almost complete silence, the only words being tips from the previous victors, and rambling-ons from Hera. After we've devoured most of the food at the table, we're dismissed and stand from our seats to leave to our separate rooms.

"Well," Hera starts, her voice tired, due to all of the day's happenings, "We've got quite a few big days ahead of us. Get some sleep."

But I didn't get sleep, and what little sleep I got was filled with upsetting dreams about my father screaming at my dead body when I'm brought back to him, nightmares of my throat being torn out by a Career girl, or being tricked by my own district partner into eat the wrong thing. When I awoke, there's a thick layer of sweat and fear covering my body; I realize then, truly, for the first time, that this was real. This was all real, and there was nothing I could to but try my hardest to come out on top.

Before I know it, we're in the outskirts of the Capitol. From the window I can see huge buildings glistening with silver; they tower over everything, and make me feel so small, even though we're still a good few miles away. The awe is soon replaced with disgust as I catch the first glimpse of Captiol citizens with their bright, ridiculous outfits and hair that looks like it's never been tamed. Chadwick, however, doesn't seem to think the way I do, as he's practically running out of the train when it stops so he can greet our audience. He knew what to do to get the approval, and much to my dismay, it was working.


End file.
